


The Holiday Spirit

by LasciviousPeach



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: But a Little Bit of Angst, Explicit Language, Fluff, M/M, Prompt Fic, SO MUCH FLUFF, holiday party, very cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 16:01:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13251657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LasciviousPeach/pseuds/LasciviousPeach
Summary: Alexander drunkenly confesses his feelings to Thomas at the annual holiday party, and well, Thomas doesn't really know how to handle it.





	The Holiday Spirit

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be up before Christmas, but oops. Hope you enjoy it anyway! Comments and Kudos are the best Christmas gift! <3

Alexander storms down the hallway, his legs pounding against the floor with each hurried step he takes. He can at once recognize the new interns by the half shocked, half scared expression on their young faces. The older interns simply shoot him a blank face and turn back to the mountains of paperwork that Washington had piled before the company’s two day “holiday weekend”.

Business never stops, but apparently the company can function without everyone except department heads for two days.

Washington had thrown a holiday party the Friday before Christmas. It was a large event and most of Alexander’s coworker attended. All of Washington’s department heads were expected to be there, so even though Alexander would have much rather stayed home and worked, He - and the rest of the treasury department were forced there under the threat of firing. (Not that Washington would ever have the nerve to fire him, he did this job better than anyone could.)

Which brings him back to the reason he’s storming down the hallway. Alexander makes a sharp right turn and bangs on the office door in front of him. The shiny gold metal name plate sparking with each hit of his hand.

“Open the damn door you asshole!” He yells, fist banging against the door. “You can’t ignore me for ever!” Alexander continues, he stops pounding and holds his hand to his chest. His knuckles are bright red and his pinky knuckle is already bruising. “Jefferson, at the very least tell me why you’re ignoring me.” He mumbles defeated, “We were getting along, why won’t you talk to me?”

He rests his head against the closed door, and all he hears is silence.

_ “Alexander, son, you’re looking very festive.” Washington’s deep voice greeted him as he stepped into the party’s designated room. He was wearing a blue holiday sweater with a gingerbread man on it and the words “Let’s Get Baked”, he had stolen it from John at the last minute. Not the most appropriate thing to wear to a work party, but Angelica had mentioned that sweaters were required, and Alexander didn’t have many options. _

_ “Thank you,” Alexander responded, his eyes flickering down to his boss’s light up sweater, “You look quite festive as well, sir.” _

_ Washington laughed, clapping a hand across Alexander’s shoulder, in a paternal gesture that Alex definitely should not accept, but he did so anyway, “Get yourself a drink, mingle, please don’t start any fights.” _

_ A smile fought at the corner of Alexander’s mouth as he replied, “No promises, Sir, but I’ll try my best.” _

Alexander eventually gives up trying to convince Thomas to leave his office and mopes back to his office. The interns, and even Adams, shoot him weird looks, and Alex wonders when he became so pathetically disgusting. He’s been harbouring this crush on his fellow department head since Thomas was first offered the job. (Alexander is head of Treasury so he has to work with the head of Foreign Affairs, AKA Thomas Jefferson). He’s never told Thomas how he feels, though, mostly because he’s too busy yelling at the man-or being yelled at by the man-to have brought it up.

But then the night of the Holiday party, Alexander had thought they could have a chance. Maybe they could be something more than self-proclaimed enemies.

_ Alexander saw Charles Lee speaking with Samuel Seabury and made a beeline towards the booze. If he was expected to put up with these assholes, then at the very least, he’d need to have liquor in his system. _

_ Unfortunately for him, Thomas Jefferson had planted himself right next to the bowel of - more than likely spiked - punch. He can admit that Jefferson looks really good though, his baby blue sweater covered in snowflakes. He was in the middle of a conversation with James Madison, his arms moving wildly as he gestured. _

_ Alexander sighed, collecting his pride and making his way towards the punch table. He sidestepped the Virginians and grabbed a plastic cup, filling it with a generous amount of punch. Alexander took a sip, choking a little when the vodka reached the back of his throat. He coughed, clearing his throat, and winced. _

_ “Someone was definitely generous with the alcohol.” Jefferson said with a soft smile. It was so unlike his modus operandi, and it immediately made Alexander’s walls tumble. He was so in love with Jefferson that he had long since crossed the line into pathetic territory. _

_ Alexander tossed his drink back, swallowing the liquor courage, and turning a smile Thomas’s way, “Come on, Jefferson, admit it was you.” He smiled, tucking a stray hair behind his ear. _

_ Jefferson snorted, “Please, if I spiked the punch, it would have been with something classier than Smirnoff vodka.” _

_ Alexander rolled his eyes, refilling his cup and throwing it back again. He caught John’s eye from across the room and gave Jefferson a nod before making his way across the room. _

_ “Alexander,” John greeted with a smile that made Alex roll his eyes. _

_ “Laurens,” He replied, eyes not straying from where Thomas was speaking with Aaron Burr. _

_ John cleared his throat, “Stop eye fucking Jefferson and do shots with me.” _

_ Like he said, probably not the most appropriate for an office party. _

He’s sitting in his office, face buried in his mug of coffee (steaming hot, thanks to his favourite intern: Karen. He’d at once taken a liking to her, mostly because she always knew how to make his coffee perfect. And no matter how busy Washington kept her and the others, she always made time to bring him a fresh mug.)

Washington’s intern - a young girl whose name Alexander can never remember - peeks her head in the door and tells him that Washington expects him in the conference room in five minutes. He gives her an affirmation, and grabs his mug, a pen, and a pad of paper, before making his way to the conference room.

He takes his seat next to Washington, stares at the empty seat across from him, and waits for the meeting to commence.

_ Alexander somehow got roped into playing a game of eggnog pong with Jefferson, John, and strangely enough Washington. Washington teamed up with John and Alexander was left with the hottest man alive. _

_ Washington and John had gotten down to four cups, and Thomas and Alexander only had one left. Alexander was already drunk to begin with, but he had gotten significantly drunker throughout the game. Thomas seemed tipsy, but not as drunk as his partner.  Alexander and Jefferson had also gotten nicer the faster they went through cups. _

_ Jefferson aimed up his shot, and Alexander stared at the man’s eyes. “Come on, Thomas.” He whispered, “You’ve got this. I believe in you,” Thomas shot the ball, Alexander’s eyes widened, and **bam** , right into the cup. Alexander’s mouth fell open, and he turned to Thomas. _

_ “Oh my God!” He laughed, letting Thomas pick him up into a hug. “We won. Suck that, John Laurens!” Alex cheered, taking Jefferson’s hand and pulling him towards the booze table for victory shots. _

Thomas slips into the conference room right as Washington speaks, taking his seat across from Alexander, and refusing to meet the other man’s eye. Alex rolls up a piece of paper, and waits until Washington turns away, before throwing it at Jefferson. The paper smacks him above his left eye and falls down onto the tabletop.

Jefferson’s eyes snap up to meet his, his lips pulling into a snare. He glares, forehead taunt before flattening his palm against the table - smashing the paper underneath it. Jefferson looks back at Washington without missing a beat.

Alexander scoffs, causing Washington to shoot him a reprimanding look, and lets his head fall against the table.

_ Alexander was drunk. He was tipsy, inebriated, wasted. It didn’t matter what fancy term you used; it was plain: Alexander Hamilton was fucking drunk. He had just finished another round of shots with Jefferson. _

_ “You know what?” Alexander slurred, leaning heavily on Jefferson as the Virginian helped him across the room. Jefferson - who was significantly more sober than Alex (some people can hold their liquor) - wrapped his arm around Alexander’s back as he helped him sit down. _

_ “What?” Jefferson replied once he was sure Alexander wouldn’t fall out of the seat and injury himself somehow. _

_ Alexander hummed, rubbing his chin dramatically, “I think you and I could be friends.” _

_ Jefferson raised an eyebrow at that, “Hamilton, no offense, but we hate each other. We can’t go one day without fighting.” _

_ Alexander shook his head, pressing his face into Jefferson’s shoulder. The alcohol was pumping through his system, “You smell good.” He groaned, “You smell really good.” _

_ Jefferson laughed, wrapping his arm around Alex’s back. Alexander smiled, moving his head from Thomas’s shoulder and nuzzling against his chest. It was firm and nice under his head, “Can I tell you a secret, Thomas?” _

_ Thomas looked down at the man speaking into his shirt, “Of course you can, Alex.” _

_ “I don’t hate you,” He hesitated, “In fact, it’s quite the opposite of that.” _

_ “What do you mean by that?” Jefferson replied with a little smile. _

_ Alexander looked up and stared into Thomas’s eyes, “You said we hated each other, but in reality I’m in love with you.” _

_ Jefferson froze, his eyes going wide as he looked down at Alexander. “What?” _

_ “I’m in love with you, Thomas.” _

“Okay meeting’s dismissed,” Washington’s voice booms through the conference room, “Don’t forget, I need final figures by Thursday.”

Jefferson stands and fleas the room before Alexander can get a word out.

Alexander gets up, following Thomas out of the room. He manages to slide his foot in between Jefferson’s door and the door frame just as the Virginian closes the door. Alex flinches as the door stops, and he shoves the door open.

“Jesus Christ, Jefferson.” He hisses, “What the fuck?”

He sees Jefferson, bent over at his desk, hands on his temples. “Alexander, please go and shut the door behind you.”

He crosses the room in two steps, planting himself in front of Jefferson’s desk. “Please, just tell me why you’re avoiding me. We had a good time at the holiday party, I thought we could be friends.” He was desperate, grasping at anything. He had a good night with Thomas, and even though he doesn’t remember half the night, he knows it was fun.

Thomas stares down at his desk, shaking his head.

Alex feels anger flood through him hotly, and he slams his hands down on Thomas’s desk, “You fucking asshole!” He hisses, “Just tell me what the hell is wrong with you!”

“You told me you were in love with me!” Thomas snaps, looking up into Alex’s eyes and slamming his hands on the desk.. He softens a little, hands falling down to his sides, “You told me you were in _love_ with me.”

Mortification replaces his anger in a second.  _ That’s _ why Thomas has been avoiding him? Because he drunkenly spilled his deepest secret. His neck flushes red, and he feels sick.

“I told you that I was in love with you, and you started avoiding me?” He says, voice sticky and rough. He feels pressure behind his eyes and his mortification rises. This is why he didn’t want Thomas to find out. The horrifying mortification that comes with knowing Thomas Jefferson doesn’t want him. “Because you were so disgusted by the thought of me being in love with you? That the thought repulsed you?”

Jefferson looks up again, his face betraying nothing. “Alexander,”

He feels a tear escape his eye and roll down his cheek. “I wish I could hate you.”

Jefferson stands up, walking to the front of the desk and standing beside Alex. “Please don’t say that, Alex.” He murmurs, “I was avoiding you because I thought you just saying things because you were drunk. I didn’t think you meant it.”

Alexander looks up, mouth open and eyes wide, “What?”

Thomas reaches up, gentle, and rests his hand on Alex’s face. His thumb on Alex’s chin and his hand curled underneath. “I thought you somehow figured out how I felt about you, and you were making fun of me.”

Alexander’s mouth goes dry, “What do you mean how you felt about me?”

Thomas smiles a little, just barely showing his teeth, “Tell me how you feel about me one more time, completely sober,” His breath ghosts over Alex’s face like silk.

“I love you,” He repeats, more confidently than before. Thomas’s eyes flutter, inky black eyelashes fanning across his cheekbones.

“I love you too, Alexander.”

Thomas’s words steal the breath from Alexander’s lungs. He grabs the lapels of Jefferson’s suit, pulling the taller man closer to him.

Their lips inch closer and closer until Thomas closes the gap between them.

The kiss is sweet, like coming home after a long day or a sip of water in the desert. Sweet like the ocean breeze, and crisp like the Caribbean nights. He falls into it headfirst, pushing forward against Thomas and running his tongue across the Virginian’s bottom lip. Thomas’s hand moves softly, trailing across Alexander’s jawline, and cupping the nape of his neck.

Alexander pulls back first, eyes wide and pupils blown. Thomas looks about the same, a kind smile tilted on his mouth.

“Merry Christmas,” He mumbles, a whisper across Thomas’s mouth.

Thomas smiles, leaning back in to press a quick kiss to Alex’s lips, “Merry Christmas, Alexander.”

**Author's Note:**

> Visit me on tumblr: willieverbesatisfied


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